TRAPPED BY A SEA MONSTER
"This is travelin' in style, all right," approvingly remarked Captain
Britten, looking about the comfortably appointed cabin and sniffing the
appetizing odor of lamb chops on the electric grill. When necessary, Ned
Newton could cook an impromptu meal. He really was rather proud of his
ability.
[Illustration: Ned Cooked Some Lamb Chops]
As the amateur chef placed the meal on a small, collapsible table, Tom
announced that they were now flying over the state of Georgia. "We
should reach Key West about three P.M.," he said.
The ship droned steadily onward. At two o'clock in the afternoon they
were passing near a large city. "Miami," declared Ned, who had been
poring over a chart. "Airplanes go to many parts of South America from
there."
[Illustration: "Miami," Declared Ned]
Tom sent the "Winged Arrow" lower and lower. Finally he leveled off at
an altitude of about five hundred feet above the blue sea. Here the full
force of the fierce subtropical sun began to make itself felt.
The travelers, fresh from the comparatively cool northern summer, made
haste to open all the air vents in the plane. Then they changed into
white linen suits.
[Illustration: They Changed into Linen Suits]
"Whew!" exclaimed Tom, mopping his brow. "I've traveled in the jungles
of Africa but have never felt hotter!"
"Ah, it's the ship, my boy. You see, the dark metal hull fairly soaks up
the sun, an' that's why we're a bit uncomfortable," said Captain
Britten. "Once we land, you'll think the climate fine!"
Shortly afterward they flew over a grim-looking American battleship. It
greeted them with a hoarse blast of her whistle as the flying boat shot
by at the rate of two hundred miles an hour. On either side tiny
islands, or cays, appeared, then vanished as if by magic. Finally a blue
blur straight ahead began to loom even larger, and in a few minutes the
"Winged Arrow" landed in the harbor of Key West.
[Illustration: They Flew Over a Battleship]
"Half-past three," said Tom, glancing at the clock on the instrument
panel. "A slow passage."
"Fast as I'd want to make it," declared Captain Britten. "A steamer'd
have taken a good many hours where we needed only minutes. There's the
old 'Betsy B.' tied to her pier, so let's get over to her!"
[Illustration: In the Harbor at Key West]
The idling engines were speeded up and the flying boat moved slowly
across the harbor. A tug with smoke curling from her single thick funnel
lay near the broad-beamed barge.
[Illustration: A Tug Lay Near the Barge]
Over the stern of the latter several grinning Negroes leaned. Their
ancestors might have been stricken dumb at sight of the great sky craft
tying up to their ship, but these darkies were familiar with daily
passage of planes bound for South America and showed but little
astonishment. In a liquid Spanish-English patois they bade the whites
welcome. All of them were old retainers of Captain Britten.
As the elderly man had said, the old barge had served as winter quarters
for him during the past years. In consequence, he had had her little
cabins fitted up more luxuriously than is customary on such vessels.
Tom and Ned were given one far more comfortable than they had expected.
[Illustration: The Cabins Were Comfortable]
The rest of the afternoon was taken up with inspection of the ship, the
arrangements for the safe-keeping of the "Winged Arrow," and the laying
of plans. Immediately after the hydroplane had been moored to a small
pier owned by Captain Britten, the tug-boat chugged out into the Gulf of
Mexico at the rate of ten knots.
[Illustration: The Tug Chugged out into the Gulf]
"I'd say we should reach the spot some time tomorrow afternoon," said
Tom after studying the chart. "It's just under two hundred miles."
"And we'll get your meteorite for you!" predicted the old salvage man
confidently. "Lucky the captain of that freighter 'Perry' took a bearing
on the lighthouse at Port Baracoa; otherwise it would be like lookin'
for a boll weevil in a bale o' cotton!"
[Illustration: Tom Studied the Charts]
Ruiz, the coal-black cook, served a good supper at sundown. Shortly
afterward the boys went to their bunks, for both were tired after the
long flight. Then too, Tom was still feeling the effects of the gas
inhaled the previous night.
Next morning found the "Betsy B." wallowing through a smooth sea a few
miles off the east coast of Cuba. Under the supervision of Captain
Britten, several of the crew were busy oiling the huge winch,
overhauling steel cables, and seeing to a dozen other minor but
important details. Altogether, it was a busy scene that met the eyes
of Tom and Ned when they emerged on deck.
[Illustration: The Crew Was Busy]
"Your father was right, I think," said Ned. "You certainly have a
competent man. See how the crew jump at his word!"
"I agree," said Tom with satisfaction. "But me for breakfast! This sea
air surely gives a fellow a good appetite."
A head wind coupled with a rising sea combined to hold back the tug and
her rather clumsy tow as the day waned. Occasional heavy rain squalls
made the deck of the barge a rather uncomfortable place, so the boys
stayed in the main cabin and discussed plans.
[Illustration: Head Winds Held Back the Tug]
"I think the rainy season must be at its height," groaned Ned at last as
he and Tom sat sweltering. "Maybe we'll be cooped up here for the whole
voyage."
[Illustration: Rain Kept the Boys in Their Cabins]
"Not me," declared the young inventor with a laugh. "Since when have you
grown afraid of a little rain? By afternoon we ought to be near the
spot where Captain Mawson jettisoned the meteorite and then we'll begin
to get busy, weather or no weather!"
"I hope the thing will be worth all our trouble," said Ned a bit
crossly. "Perhaps we won't even be able to find it. What then?"
"You're just suffering from a touch of 'mal de mer'!" teased Tom,
refusing to consider his chum's gloomy remarks.
"I'm not a bit seasick!" protested Ned indignantly. "I just think
we're on a wild goose chase, that's all!"
[Illustration: "I'm Not Seasick," Protested Ned]
"Wait and see."
Evening drew nigh, and the sudden tropical night fell. On the Cuban
coast lights went on, dominated by the intermittent glare of a powerful
beacon many miles ahead.
"Baracoa Light," announced Captain Britten, seeing this. "We will lay
off-shore till morning and begin our work tomorrow."
[Illustration: The Captain Pointed to the Beacon]
It spoke well for Tom Swift's nerves that he slept soundly, despite
his great interest in the morrow's activities. During the night the sea
abated and the rain ceased. Dawn broke with a brilliance to be seen only
in tropical lands.
In order to reach the spot in the sea beneath which the meteorite lay,
it was necessary to get the barge into a position corresponding to the
apex of an isosceles triangle in relation to the lighthouse tower and
the peak of a small hill near by.
[Illustration: Tom Made Some Observations]
Captain Britten and Tom, sextants in hand, made repeated observations.
Ned stood by the telephone connecting the tug and her tow, transmitting
to the former's captain the navigation directions. Finally the barge was
supposed to be exactly where the freighter had thrown overboard the big
stone.
"We may have to look around a little, though," remarked Tom as Captain
Britten ordered the tug halted and anchors lowered. "In the big storm
Captain Mawson might have made a mistake in his reckoning."
[Illustration: The Chart Showed the Depth of the Water]
The water was about three hundred feet deep here, the Hydrographic
Office charts showed. When Ned learned this, he looked serious.
"The record depth attained by a diver is only 204 feet!" he exclaimed.
"At least, that's what I read in an encyclopedia."
"Guess you're referring to James Hooper, who reached that depth off the
South American coast some years ago," smiled Tom Swift. "But since
then diving-dress has undergone considerable improvement, eh, Captain
Britten?"
[Illustration: A Boom Was Swung Overside]
"That's right. I have on board several of the newest type suits.
Besides, I use native divers, men who, even without protection, can
descend to almost unbelievable distances."
Quickly a boom was swung out overside. From it hung several pulleys to
which was attached a narrow steel platform. Presently three tall
Negroes carried out of the storeroom grotesque-looking diving suits
which weighed over two hundred and fifty pounds apiece.
[Illustration: He Shuffled Across the Deck]
Captain Britten spoke in Spanish to one of them, then the fellow began
putting on the weird uniform. It made him look like a visitor from
another world. The tremendous weight of his garb prevented him from
moving at more than a slow shuffle across the deck, strong though he
was.
[Illustration: A Trail of Bubbles]
A section of the railing had been removed to allow access to the
dangling metal platform upon which the diver stepped. The boom swung out
and the drum of the winch began unrolling. In a few seconds only a trail
of vanishing bubbles marked the spot where the Negro had gone into the
sea.
"How long will it take him to reach bottom?" asked Ned, peering overside
in fascination.
"About forty minutes," replied Captain Britten. "A diver must be
lowered and raised gradually in order to avoid the terrible
after-effects of a sudden change in pressure. At three hundred feet the
pressure is more than eighteen thousand pounds per square foot!"
[Illustration: Tom Held His Watch to His Ear]
Time dragged on. Down, down rolled the heavy cable supporting the diver.
Finally Tom held his watch to his ear, as though he were afraid it might
have stopped.
"Oh, it's still running," laughed Ned a little nervously as he observed
his chum's action. "Only five more minutes, Tom!"
[Illustration: He Reported a Good Sandy Bottom]
At last a bell tinkled and Captain Britten grabbed up the telephone
instrument which connected barge and diver. For a few seconds he
listened, then replied briefly in Spanish.
"Alvarez is down," he said to Tom as he hung up the receiver. "He
reports a good, sandy bottom but no sight yet of the meteorite. At any
rate, there's no danger of it having sunk in an oozy bottom."
Ten minutes later the phone buzzed again, this time with a request
that the ship be moved a little east and that Manuel, Alvarez's mate, be
sent down to help. This was done, and another telephone instrument was
plugged in.
[Illustration: Manuel Was to Go Down]
Tom, who understood a little Spanish, stood by to hear the report of the
second diver. Both lines were now kept open continuously.
Finally Manuel reached bottom, saying that he had contacted Alvarez. For
some minutes nothing came through either telephone but the sound of
the submerged men's breathing.
[Illustration: Something Has Gone Wrong!]
"I see something, Señor! A rock--'que grande'!" came to Tom's ears
suddenly. "It must indeed be that which the Señor seeks. But, Santa
Maria! there is something else--!" Manuel's voice broke off suddenly.
"Captain Britten! Can you hear your man?" shouted Tom after his repeated
attempts to renew, the connection had failed.
"No! I can hear only a muffled groaning. Something has gone wrong.
That's sure!"
[Illustration: "Stop, Señor!" Screamed the Engineer]
"Pull 'em up quick, then!" advised Ned.
This seemed good advice, so the auxiliary engine was started and the
winches began turning slowly.
"Stop, Señor!" suddenly screamed the native engineer, waving his arms
excitedly and cutting off the steam. "The drums turn--si--but the cables
do not rise. Something has caught the men!"
[Illustration: Loose the Winches]